


Interlude

by Amethyst_Hunter



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Angst, Conversations, Gen, Introspection, Taking Over the World
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 15:21:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2314259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amethyst_Hunter/pseuds/Amethyst_Hunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ponderings amidst a circle of exiled heavenly beings as they prepare for the Final Battle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> \- Disclaimer: I don't own these guys and it's probably just as well that I don't. Shien and I might get along, but I'm afraid Zenon would shoot at me. O_o; 
> 
> \- Warnings/Spoilers: Anime-based. Minor spoilers for the Kami/Homura-tachi arc. The timeline for this would fall somewhere late, shortly before the Sanzo-ikkou duke it out with the Homura-tachi. Rated PG-13 for swearing.

~~ 

 

Shien wasn't a warrior because he wanted to be. He did what he did because he was good at it, and because someone had to keep a level head in situations where passions were apt to fly faster and more furious than lightning. Ironically, that was his specialty. He'd chosen the lash as his primary weapon because it had an aesthetically-pleasing function to it. Shien liked style. 

He liked order, too, which was why he'd agreed to accompany Homura on a seemingly odd and impossible quest to create a new Paradise, separate from that which they'd once occupied. Homura had grown disgusted with the hierarchy of the elder gods that ran things, and the condemnation of his beloved plus the Demon King fiasco had tipped the scales towards the decision to split. Sometimes Shien wondered if this had been a mistake. Homura's original intention had been to 'borrow' Son Goku's power for the impetus behind his dream, but ever since meeting the wild child in battle he had become... _obsessed,_ and now seemed to be considering other, more permanent options. Not a wise move when dealing with a power as great as the legendary Son Goku's. But then Homura always had had more brass than brains, as Zenon would have so delicately phrased it. 

Ah, Zenon. The man was unquestionably a professional. _Professional what?_ a few of the younger and more insolent _kamis_ might have tittered amongst themselves - Zenon's reputation as something of a loose cannon was not unheard of among most gods, on a similar par with General Kenren's notoriety. Were he of a more frivolous nature, Shien might have been inclined to snicker along with them. But duty was duty, and whatever else Zenon was, he _was_ a professional in his work, and so Shien could find no fault there. 

In all fairness Shien supposed he couldn't much blame Homura for his Goku-centricity. There was something about the boy that resonated a kindred spirit within the war prince, much the same way that Nataku's solemnity had tugged at Shien. Despite the former's excellence and composure, he much preferred the laughing, impudent little boy to the stoic and focused warrior - a luxury that Nataku had far too seldom been allowed. 

He could have - should have - spoken up then, when it became clear that Nataku was the favored choice to send into important battles. He'd had a hand in shaping the boy's skill, hadn't he? That had given him authority to bear responsibility for the end result, and he should have realized it before he'd allowed them to recruit his pupil so handily. Unfortunately, as they said, hindsight was twenty-twenty, and now it was far too late to do anything. 

Well...maybe not. Depending on how well the recreation of their New Heaven went, perhaps it would not be too much to ask of Homura and Zenon that they populate it with one more of their ilk. Away from the machinations of the elders and that brute he called a sire, just maybe...Nataku might one day emerge from his self-imposed cocoon. And if he didn't, at least he would know peace from the hordes greedily awaiting his return so that they could force him to pick up where they left off. It was a small but comforting penance to hold in mind. 

"We movin' this party out sometime today or what?" the brusque voice interrupted Shien's thoughts from the doorway. 

"A moment, if you please." 

Zenon made a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat. "Oh cripes. Don't tell me you're thinking about _that_ again." He scuffed his boots along the floor as he came further into the room. "You're livin' in the past, Shien. You gotta get over it sometime." 

"Tell that to Nataku." 

Nataku, Nataku. Always with his comrade it was the same regrets. Zenon sometimes wished he could access the time portals and take Shien back to a period of real angst, show him what serious suffering was. He experienced it every time he thought about the bastard who had wiped out his wife and child. Using the kind of sniping retort he knew would rile the other, he said, "Whassamatter, Shien, you into little boys or somethin'?" 

The figure before him slowly turned around. Blue-green eyes sprang open and sliced him apart with laserlike precision. Now Shien was mad. 

Zenon didn't care, although on some level he knew he ought to. Instinctively he sensed that Shien's displeasure was dangerous - but he couldn't really remember why. Maybe it was all an illusion, the appearance of lethal silence. As far as _kamis_ went, he and Shien were pretty much evenly matched; that was one of the reasons Homura had asked them to join him. Shien couldn't do too much damage. 

Or could he? Storm gods were a tricky bunch; some generated nothing more than a stiff breeze or two with their rages, while others were capable of razing entire worlds. Zenon had a sneaking suspicion that Shien's full fury was of the latter type. 

An icy silence permeated the room. "Don't talk about Nataku like that," Shien finally said. 

Zenon chuffed unrepentantly and flicked ash from his cigarette. He never had been able to resist baiting his solemn, taciturn comrade. "Why not, you in charge of defending his honor or somethin'? Kid's a killer, Shien. You know it, I know it, and believe me, Homura knows it now that he's next in line. Or was, anyway. Why the hell you think we broke away from that bunch when we did? 'Cause we knew those fuckers would've been eyeing us as the next batch to go in their sick little schemes." 

Shien's gaze never wavered from Zenon's face. "And who do you think put Nataku up to it in the first place?" he said, the quiet steel in his voice giving the other _kami_ pause. "That psychotic father of his was using his own child to commit slaughter and no one ever condemned him for it. Not once. It was always 'send the killer-kid to do it' every time a job came up. No wonder the boy descended into catatonia. He could no longer bear the weight of his deeds." 

Zenon shook his head. "He went batshit 'cause he was already fucked in the head, not 'cause of anything he did. Though I can see how constant battle would warp anybody," he added upon seeing Shien's eyes narrow. "Look, you said it yourself, the father was a nutter to begin with, and no amount of sweet-talking is gonna compensate for bad breeding. Nataku wasn't pissed 'cause he hadda go fight; he was pissed 'cause it was Big Daddy givin' him his marching orders. It was no secret that they didn't get along. Li-Tohten was scared shitless his baby boy was gonna jump his leash and kick his skinny ass off his throne before he was ready to give it up. He liked the perks too much to want to share. It was all about power, succession." 

"You're wrong, Zenon. Nataku never enjoyed fighting. He told me so himself." 

"Yeah? Then how come he was always so eager to rush off every time an order was handed down? How come he was squealing like a pig in heat when he was beating the shit out of some unlucky bastard? We've both had the privilege of watching him in action, I believe," he said, stabbing his cigarette tip in Shien's direction as he spoke. "That kid was - is - a killer, through and through. He _enjoyed_ combat. Ain't no so-called gentle soul in the world that gets off on ripping an opponent to pieces like Nataku did." 

"Perhaps not." Shien's eyes slipped shut once more, his expression resuming its usual unfathomable mask. "But ask yourself, Zenon: If you were raised with the knowledge that your own parent expected such perfection and unquestioning obedience from you, wouldn't you feel constantly frustrated, resentful, at being unable to live up to those expectations? Yet at the same time, you still long for that parent's approval, just one small acknowledgement that you might be valued for something other than your ability to conquer. What else can you do besides obey, and then take out your frustrations and hostilities on a convenient opponent? Nataku may be an exceptionally talented and extraordinarily mature child, but when all is said and done, he is still just that - a child, with a child's mind, a child's view of life. You cannot fault him for that." 

Zenon took a deep drag on his cigarette. He held the smoke in his lungs for a moment, then blew it out in a slow stream. "Depends on who his next target - or targets - would've been, eh? Wouldn't be the first time the kid was given orders to take out an undesirable god. Or gods." He finished off the cigarette, then flicked it on the floor and crushed it with a booted heel. "You rag on me for livin' in a fantasy world, well, maybe you oughta get a fuckin' grip yourself, Shien. You're fuckin' kiddin' yourself if you still think that your sweet little pupil would hold back out of some misplaced concern for you. Blood doesn't lie, and when that fever gets in your veins, man, nothin' else matters but the carnage. Can't do a damn thing about it, 'cause that's just the way it is and the way it's always gonna be. Hell, even Homura doesn't get it yet, and he won't till Son Goku clocks him with a clue-by-four right between his half-breed eyes. He's gonna learn that the hard way since nobody can convince him otherwise. Don't you be stupid and do the same thing with Nataku." 

Shien considered for a moment. Then he slid his barb home. "By that reasoning Zenon, your son, had he lived, would have become a murderous savage repeating his father's violence. Blood doesn't lie, of course." 

A furious pause hung in the air between them. Then Zenon took two big steps towards Shien, fists clenched tightly at his sides. He seized the other _kami_ by the front of his garments and shoved him against the wall. 

"Motherfuckin' spook, you ever mention my son like that again and I'll string you up with your own goddamn hair ties!" Zenon snarled. 

Shien raised a hand and slowly wiped away the spittle from the other's outburst that dotted his face. His eyes opened. Then he clamped that hand down on one of Zenon's forearms. _Hard._

"Let. Go." 

Goddammit. Shien was skinny but _strong._ Zenon tried not to let the other see him grit his teeth as the bones in his wrist ground with a barely audible crack. He held on a few moments longer, just to ensure that Shien understood he wasn't dicking around when it came to his family, then released his grip on the folds of Shien's robe. 

In turn, Shien's crunching of his wristbones lingered, then abruptly let up. Zenon killed the immediate urge to rub his aching forearm and stuck his thumbs in his pants pockets instead. 

Shien wasn't fooled by his show of bravado. Zenon was almost never visibly affected by pain. 

The two _kamis_ eyed each other for another minute, each silently holding his ground. At last Zenon spat in disgust. "Ok, fine. Fuck this cowboy shit. You comin' or what?" Without waiting for Shien's reply he spun on his heels and stomped out of the room. 

Shien stood unmoving, listening to Zenon's boots storm their way downstairs until their thunder dimmed to silence. His eyes slid closed once more. 

He returned to the window and let the sunlight warm his face as he finished binding the rest of his hair. He checked his weapons - both whips were in order. He was certain he wouldn't need them; their task was simply to observe and then report back to Homura on the position of Genjou Sanzo's party. No need to engage unless it was unavoidable. But Shien liked to be prepared. He put his whips back in their holsters and exited the room. 

A god was ready to face the world. 

~ 

Zenon was in a bad mood. And not just the regular, shoot-at-stuff-that-moves-till-you-feel-better mood. He was more of the wanting-to-tear-off-someone's-head-with-his-bare-jaws, grind-it-to-slush-with-his-molars, and _then_ shoot-at-stuff-until-it-wasn't-moving state of mind. 

Stupid Shien. What the fuck did he know about bloodthirsty killers? He hadn't seen a real battle in ages. He'd probably get his pale ass creamed in a major fight, if it came to one. Whips could only do so much. Bullets spoke volumes by far, and none more than _kami_ -fired bullets. But none of that mattered a damn where power the likes of Nataku's was concerned. That kid wouldn't stop until every last one of them was trampled to pieces should his father be of a mind to order it - and more often than not, Li-Tohten's commands included those of execution. Zenon had known this and accepted it from the very start. So for Shien to compare his murdered son, an innocent, with a killer born and bred for that purpose alone...the mere idea enraged him beyond coherent thought. 

A rage-fogged mind wasn't good, of course he knew that. He needed to blow off steam so he'd be useful to Homura when the time came. Couldn't have any fuckups on this world-making deal. They'd come too far to mess it all up now. 

Zenon went to his quarters and gathered up a few things: a gun-cleaning kit, a cooler, and some bottles. Later, a few rounds of iced draft and some repetitive maintenance would ease the turmoil from his conversation with Shien. 

But first there was duty. 

He wondered if Kenren would ask him for another light if they happened to run into each other again. 

He'd give him one, of course. Kenren might be an ass, but he was Zenon's kind of ass, not all formal and stiff like Shien. Besides, anybody who chain-smoked was a-ok in his book. 

~ 

Homura came bitching at him later that afternoon. "I told you not to piss him off," he complained as Zenon meticulously cleaned his gun. Routine maintenance was important to him. And so it should be - the gun had never once misfired in all the years that he'd had it. Of course, it helped that it was a _kami's_ weapon, and therefore not nearly as prone to material deterioration. 

Zenon played dumb. "Piss who off?" 

Homura's lips thinned. "You _know_ who. I talked to Shien this morning after you two returned from scouting. He wasn't happy about the attitude you copped with him, Zenon." 

"How could you guess?" Zenon snorted. "Who the hell knows anything about what's going on in that mystic's head." He finished polishing the gun barrel and held it up for inspection. Clean as a whistle. 

"Be that as it may," Homura continued in a tone tinged with irritation, "I need him. I need you. Therefore it is in both your best interests to cooperate so that we can create the New Heaven as we planned." 

"Who said I wasn't cooperating? I want the New Heaven just as much as you do, Homura." 

One dark eyebrow lifted slightly in that arrogant manner of his. "Could've fooled me." 

_Yeah, it'd be easier than you think, prince, you're so wound up with Son Goku you can barely see past the end of your own damn nose at anything else._ Idly Zenon contemplated pissing Homura off too, just for the hell of it. Then he reconsidered. Whereas Shien just gave someone the silent-freeze treatment, Homura wasn't nearly as liable to hold back with the dispensing of his anger. Not for nothing was he Nataku's successor, after all. Anyways, Homura had a point: their common goal was far more important than personal pride. 

He set his gun aside and picked up a box of ammunition, giving it a critical eye. "I'm serious, Homura. I've come this far. I'm not backing out now." He paused, then added, "And neither is Shien." 

Homura nodded, toeing aside a stone with the tip of his boot. "Good. Good," he repeated, a smile easing across his handsome features. He sighed. "Sometimes, Zenon, you really need to learn to STFU, you know?" 

"Huh?" 

Homura grinned, his mismatched eyes twinkling with mischief. "I heard Kenren say it to Son Goku once when they were arguing. STFU - Shut The Fuck Up." 

Zenon didn't find it as amusing as the war prince obviously did. "Somebody oughta take their own advice," he growled under his breath, disregarding his earlier self-admonition not to risk Homura's wrath. 

But Homura's good disposition evidently had been restored. He chuckled at his comrade's ire and waved a hand carelessly in the air as he made to leave. "See you back at the Tower when you're done playing with your toys." 

Zenon watched him go and reached into the cooler beside his gun-cleaning equipment. He popped the cap on a fresh beer and took a long swig of it. Cold. Refreshing. Shien could drink that rat's-piss he called tea all he wanted; Zenon preferred a stout beer any day. Beer was a real man's nectar. 

Fuck Shien. Fuck Homura. What the hell did either of them know about anything? They could both STFU as far as he was concerned. Psychoanalysing _kamis_ with a hot nut for young boys, which, in Homura's case, wasn't likely to be mutual judging from the way Son Goku had cussed him out the last time they'd met. Ah, unrequited love. 

The sudden mental image of a besotted Homura mooning over a belligerent Son Goku struck Zenon as pretty funny. He laughed, and then took another drink from his beer. Did he even know what unrequited love was? 

He thought of his wife and son, long since gone. Images from a world he could not really remember having lived in now. 

Yeh. He did. 

~ 

Zenon was an idiot sometimes, Homura thought as he sank wearily into his chair at the head of the dais. But then, Shien could be too once in a while. He ought to know by now that Zenon carried his own internal baggage and was picky about others handling it. They all did; it came with the territory of being a _kami._ Maybe they were as human as, or more than, the very mortals which they claimed sovereignty over. Son Goku could probably teach them all a thing or two about being both. 

Son Goku. Now _there_ was a fascinating entity. 

God, Homura couldn't wait to share a proper meeting between them. How glorious and utterly intense that would be. His blood fairly hummed with anticipation. 

His beloved used to tease him about that. "Homura," she'd say, "you are the most restless man I've ever met!" Not so much restless although that certainly applied, Homura decided. More like ruthless. Yes. He had no problem doing whatever it took to achieve his goals, and heaven - ha ha - heaven help the fool who dared cross him. That was why he had been chosen to become a War Prince. The fact that his predecessor's being declared useless due to his catatonic state was actually the main reason why Homura had ascended - or _de_ scended, depending on how one looked at it - to the position mattered little to Homura. He had the skill, he had the passion, and most of all he had the utter ruthlessness to do what must be done. And there was always something that needed to be done. 

Homura hadn't left the old Heaven because his duties had become a strain on his mental state. It made little difference to him whether the ones he fought and killed were of mortal or _kami_ descent, or what deeds they had committed against Heaven that warranted their disposal. Some of them had even been a pleasure to battle. 

He'd left his former dwellings because the old farts who ran it were about as delightful to deal with as a root canal with a rusty icepick. Everything had to be Just So, or they weren't happy, and when the elders in Heaven weren't happy, _nobody_ living up there was happy. No wonder Konzen had been in such a pissy mood all the time, if that whassis-bitch aunt-cum-uncle-cum-meddler relative of his was anything to go by. 

Well, that wasn't entirely fair of him, Homura thought. Kanzeon Bosatsu, to her/his credit, recognized the value of spicing things up a bit every now and then. But somewhere along the line they'd thrown in a little too much spice and now things were no longer Just So, hence the elders' dour edicts and Homura's subsequent defection. He didn't mind the duties of a war god. He _did_ mind being shuffled around like a servant boy and treated like a pariah until he was needed for some Very Important Mission, and when they took it upon themselves to inform him that his personal life was now their business as well, that had been the last straw. Honestly, what difference did it make if he chose to take a mate, be she mortal or _kami_ female? He himself was a half-breed, it wasn't as if that had prevented him from attaining godhood and exercising his powers. Ah, but that was probably it. They didn't want anybody else cashing in on that particular franchise and someday setting up their own empire. So much for friendly competition. 

Well, surprise, surprise, guess what he was doing now? Miserly bastards, it was their own fault for having interfered with his life like that. People just couldn't seem to mind their own damned business. When and if the time ever came to challenge the old Heaven's keepers, Homura would not be in the least bit sorry to see them get their comeuppance. 

 

~~


End file.
